I Hate Shakespeare
by belaruslovesyou
Summary: Alfred's school is putting on Shakespeare's Macbeth, and, even though it's only his second play, Alfred, of course, gets cast as Macbeth. But, uhm, wait, who's Lady Macbeth? Arthur? Arthur Kirkland? The gay one? Oh, this should be fun. Eventual USUK.
1. Chapter 1

**So I was in this play. _Macbeth _by William Shakespeare, to be exact. And I was all like, "Yeah. This is cool. I'm totally gonna write Hetalia _Macbeth_." So, yeah. I was all set to do a cross-over. Like, back in the times, and Hetalia Macbeth killing Hetalia Duncan and all that. And I was talking about it. And my friend was like, "You have to make something go wrong." And I was like, "Eh...?" She though I was gonna write, like, high school age Hetalia characters doing the play. And I was like, "No. Gonna do a cross-over."**

**Then it hit me.**

**I never, ever finish things. At least not for long periods of time. So how the hell was I going to ever finish transforming a five act Shakespearean masterpiece into a third-rate, ten chapter long story on a fanfiction site?**

**Yeah. So. I'm going with my friend's idea.**

**So here ya go. Wheee.**

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"First witch!? But I'm not a girl!"

"Lady Macduff. I get to die onstage!"

"Who's Caithness?"

I stare at the crowd of about thirty of my classmates crowding around a small paper on the window of the school office. There's no way I'm going to attempt pushing through all of them, so I just stand against the wall, watching them all, observing there reactions.

Finally, they cleared; some excited, some disappointed. Oh, well, that's showbiz. I should know. I mean, I've already been the star in my one and only play here at school.

I sigh and go up to the paper. Macbeth. I walk away, smiling a slightly crooked smile. Cool. I'm the main character in my school's production of Shakespeare's _Macbeth._

I stop walking and turn back towards the paper.

I scan down the list until, at last, I find Lady Macbeth, who is being played by the lovely-_who?!_

You've got to be kidding me. No way.

"Move out of the way, Alfred, some of us want to see if we're in this bloody thing," A small Blonde boy pushes in front of me and uses his finger to scan down the list. "Arthur Kirkland," he grins and turns to walk away.

"Lady Macbeth."

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**So, this is a really short chapter. On purpose. Whee! Read the next one? It gets better, I promise.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! Due! Dos! Yeah, I'm uploading two at once, because the first was short and this one's not much longer. **

**Oh, by the way, did I ever mention I don't own Hetalia? Or anything written by Shakespeare? Sigh.**

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"Mr. Edelstein!"I whine as I follow the director/music teacher around his office while he looks for papers. "Why? Why can't Lady Macbeth be a _girl_?! I'm sure Emma or.. or Michelle or even Natalya can do it!"

"Alfred, like I've told you multiple times already," Edelstein sighs and turns to me, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "We're trying to stick as close as possible to the way this would have been performed in Shakespeare's time. And that means females are played by males."

"But-"

"No buts, Mr. Jones. Arthur is a very good, experienced actor. You should be elated to work with him."

I groan and storm out of his office. "You should be elated to vork vith heem!" I roll my eyes as I imitate Mr. Edelstein's accent.

In my frustrated rage, I wasn't paying attention to what was going on around me, and I, of course, run into the only other person in the hallway in the middle of fifth period.

"Oh, sorry," I mumble, bending down to pick up the person's books. "Let me help."

"Ready for the read through today, Alfred?"

_Damn it._

I look up at the source of the British-accented voice and drop the books back on the ground. "Oh, be quiet," I snap.

Arthur looked taken aback. "All I did was ask a question-"

"Yeah, well, it was a stupid question," I stand up and push past him, hitting his shoulder on purpose.

I heard Arthur mutter, "Bloody idiot needs anger management," behind me.

/~\

"Here's the main man himself!" My friend Gilbert says as I throw my books down on the bench in the locker room. I ignore him and open my locker.

"Alfred? What's up with you?" his voice is as heavily accented as Mr. Edelstein's. "Are you not happy? You got the main part. Again. Even though the awesome me would totally make an even more awesome Macbeth."

"Well, you can have it," I spit, peeling my shirt off over my head.

"Cool," he chuckles his annoying laugh. "But, uh... why?"

"Lady Macbeth," I grit my teeth, stripping out of my jeans and pulling on a pair of shorts. "Is Kirkland."

Gilbert stares at me. "Kirkland as in Arthur Kirkland?"

"What other Kirkland do you know?!" I glare at him.

"But..." Gilbert wrinkles his eyebrows, then grins. "He's a dude."

"No, really," I respond sarcastically, pulling an old t-shirt on.

"Isn't he gay?"

It was my turn to stare. "Excuse me, what?"

"That Kirkland guy," Gilbert starts walking out to the gym. I follow him. "I thought someone said he was gay."

I stop walking and slam my head off the wall.

Gilbert laughs while I stay with my head connected to the painted-over brick. "Yeah, so," he says over his shoulder, walking out and leaving me there. "I'll stick with my part of Banquo. The awesome me is way too awesome to be calling some gay dude "love" in front of a hundred people for three nights straight."

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**This is going to be a really fun one to write. Soooooooooo, review and uhm look for more chapters. Because there WILL be more. And trust me, eventually, there WILL be USUK. ^^**


	3. Chapter 3

**REALLY FAST UPDATE WHEEE!**

**Chap. 3, at your service~**

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"_SHUT UP!_"

Immediately, all the random sounds and voices in the auditorium stopped. Every face but mine turned to the source of the voice on the stage.

"Mr. Edelstein is going to be a little bit late," Natalya says, nose upturned like she's better than all of us. Which is sorta true, in the case of theatre. "And, for those of you who have no experience with us, that means I am in charge, as I am the student stage manager."

I sigh. It's true. She really is. Although our plays would be a hundred times better if she was in them instead of over-seeing them. Natalya's a great actress; great, actually, as in phenomenal.

"And while we're waiting," she continues. "We'll be doing introductions. Most of you may know each other already, but I want you all to do something productive instead of screaming. So, everyone find a seat. First row is for seniors only. Second is for juniors, third is for sophomores, and so on."

Everyone goes to find a seat, ranging from the first row of wretched red seats to sixth one back. We're a small school district; grades seventh through twelfth are in the same building, and, of course, all grades are welcome to participate in drama.

I sit in the second row back, next to Gilbert; the only two people in the first row are Kirkland and Antonio. Neither of them sit next to each other. Kirkland sits directly in the middle of the row, while Antonio sits all the way over to the right, talking to some red-haired kid sitting in the tenth grade row.

"When I call your name, you'll get in front of everyone. You will say your name, grade, your part in the play, and-"

"Your favorite color," Gilbert interjects."

"Fine," Natalya snaps, rolling her eyes. "Your favorite color. First, Peter Kirkland."

Some little seventh grade kid runs up front. I hear Arthur groan and watch him slide down in his seat.

"I'm Peter," the kid says in a very high British voice. "I'm in seventh grade, and I-I play Fleance, and my favorite color is-"

"Fleance! My child!" Gilbert flings his arms open and nearly hits me in the face. But, he's right. Fleance is Banquo's child. Wow. Gilby did his research.

"Gilbert, if you interrupt again, I swear," Natalya glares at him. Gilbert holds up his hands defensively in response.

Peter, smiling like a idiot likely due to the fact that he has been acknowledged by a older kid, continues on. "My favorite color is blue!"

Natalya scans down the cast list, looking for another name. "Okay, now you can go sit-"

"And that," Peter says, cutting Natalya off (which is a bad idea) and pointing at Kirkland (which is probably an equally bad idea). "is my brother, Iggy!"

"Iggy?!" I almost burst out laughing. "That's such a stupid nickname."

Arthur-no, wait, Iggy-turns and just stares at me, red-faced.

"Sweet!" Gilbert chuckles. "Mini-Kirkland 2.0!"

All the other cast members laugh. I do, too, even though it's a little hard to ignore Iggy's eyes on me.

"SHUT UP!" Natalya yells, and we obey. "Kid," she points at Mini-Kirkland. "Go sit. Gilbert, I'm going to kill you. Alfred," she sighs. "Stop making fun of Iggy."_  
_

I have to stifle a chuckle, but the noise causes Kirkland to flash a look back at me. I slide down in my seat, trying to suppress the grin on my face.

"Next," Natalya continues. "Lovino Vargas."

The red-haired kid Antonio was talking to gets up and walks to the front. "Ciao, I'm Lovino. I'm in tenth grade..."

/_\

"Alfred! Psst, Alfred!"

I jolt up in my seat. "What? Huh?"

"You're next," Gilbert says. "It's Kirkland's turn, and then you're the last one."

I nod. I must've dozed off after that Lovino kid, who's playing the first witch. After and including his, the intros were boring.

I sigh sleepily and turn my attention towards the front of the auditorium, where Arthur is standing.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland," he says, then adds in a grumble, "or Iggy."

A few chuckles come from the audience, including one from me. Of course, I'm the one Kirkland decides to shoot the glare at.

"I'm a senior. I'll be playing Lady Macbeth."

This receives no reaction; there are almost no girls cast in this play. In fact, only two. The rest are all guys, and so many of the female characters-all but witch two and Hecate-are played by men. Just as Edelstein said.

"My favorite color is..," he pauses. His eyes flash from the spot on the back wall of the auditorium he's been staring at this whole time to me, and then back to the wall. "...blue," he sighs.

Kirkland goes to sit down. I watch him, my eyebrows wrinkled. Why, exactly, did he have to look at _me _before he told everyone what his favorite color was? Couldn't he have looked at anyone else? Or just no one at all? And why does this interest me so much? Why should I-

"Alfred!" Natalya hisses.

I shake my head to clear it and jump out of my seat, climbing over Gilbert's legs instead of asking him to move. Before I start my intro, I bow to Natalya and say, "Yes, your majesty." She glares at me while my audience laughs.

"Ahem," I begin. "My name is Alfred F. Jones. The 'f' is for Frederic, which fits considering my last role was Frederic in our production of 'The Pirates of Penzance' here-"

"Alfred!" Natalya snaps. "No one cares to hear your unimpressive resume."

"I do," I sneer at her. "Anyway, I'm Macbeth, so, yeah, I, uh, kill a bunch of you guys."

More laughs from my beckoning audience.

"I'm a junior. And I don't have a favorite color. But I do have a favorite color combination," I grin. "Red, white, and blue, baby," I wink and bask in the glory of the laughter.

"Oh," Kirkland smirks at me. "The Union Jack, eh?"

"Oh, the Union Jack, eh?" I imitate him, rolling my eyes. "No, not the stupid Union Jack. The American Flag. Limey."

"Limey," Iggy says, getting out of his seat and taking a few steps towards me. "is an offensive term that I'd completely expect someone of your caliber to-"

"I have scripts!" We all turn to look at Edelstein walk into the auditorium, carrying a rather hefty stack of papers in his arms.

I take that as a signal to sit down. I push past Arthur, yet again hitting his shoulder on purpose. As I walk away, I hear him mumbling under his breath. Something about patriots and sex appeal.

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**I'm having lots of fun writing this. Lots. xD So review! Por favore e grazie, please and thank you. ^^**

**Thanks for reading, look for chapter 4!**


	4. Chapter 4

**glkajsaldkgljsadkj chapter 4, ready to go. ^^**

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"Act 1, Scene 5, go!"

After Edelstein had handed out the scripts, he made us all move a bunch of folding chairs into the area between the stage and the first row of auditorium seats (otherwise known as the "pit"). He decided he would choose where we were sitting, too. And, of course, I get to sit next to Limey Man over here.

"Inverness. Macbeth's castle," Natalya reads the stage directions. "Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter."

"They met me in the day of success: and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge," Arthur recites his lines in his usual voice, which is quite girly enough, if you ask me.

I zone out a little. _Only the rest of Act 1 today... come on, Alfred. You can survive this._

"Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be what thou art promised: yet I do fear they nature," I watch Kirkland as he reads. It somewhat amazes me that he's reciting these lines perfectly, almost like he's already had them memorized.

Yeah. Because every guy totally starts preparing to be the leading lady in a Shakespearean play the day they're born.

"Hie thee hither, that I may pour my spirits in thine ear; and chastise with the valour of my tongue all that impedes thee from the golden round," he continues. It also amazes me how his tone of voice and the emotion he portrays is spot on, but he shows nothing on his face. Completely blank.

"Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem to have the crown'd withal," Kirkland finished out. Maybe Edelstein was right in choosing him for this part. He's perfect...

For the part, I mean. In no other way is Arthur Kirkland "perfect".

"Ahem, Alfred."

"Huh?" I shake my head to clear it. "Sorry. Uh... line?"

"My dearest love," Natalya cues me.

"Right, right," I mumble, nodding. I scan my eyes down the page and locate the line. I clear my throat. "My dearest love, Duncan comes to-night."

"And when goes hence?" Kirkland questions. At least, that's what it sounds like. According to his constant facial expression, he's as uninterested in the lines as I am in math class.

"To-morrow, as he purposes," I stumble over the word "purposes."

"O, never shall sun that morrow see!" Iggy recites the line with the perfect mix of emotion-anger, excitement, and who knows what else. "Your face, my thane, is as a book where men may read strange matters. To beguile the time, look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't."

I like that line. The one about the flower and the serpent. Act all cutesy and BAM! Bring out the goods. I think we should put that line on t-shirts for our sports teams.

"He that's coming must be provided for," continues Mr. Lady Macbeth. "and you shall put this night's great business into my dispatch; which shall to all our nights and days to come give solely sovereign sway and masterdom."

"We will speak further," I draw out the "r" in "fur".

"Only look up clear," I make a small, barely audible noise of frustration in the back of my throat. God, why does he have to talk so slow? I mean, I know you can't recite your lines fast, but this is just a read-through. Kirkland can save it for the stage.

Okay, so I guess that "barely audible" noise was a bit more audible than thought. Iggy shoots me a glare before finishing out the last line of scene five.

He clears his throat in a very feminine way. "To alter favour ever is to fear: Leave all the rest to me."

"And that," interrupts Edelstein. "Is where, I'm afraid, is where we'll be stopping today. I had intended to go on to the end of act one, but I can't keep you much longer. We'll continue with scene six tomorrow."

Everyone got up, some going to retrieve their belongings and some helping to put the folding chairs away. I put a total of two chairs away, although the second was not by choice. Natalya just handed it to me.

I walk over to where my backpack is on the floor. I hurry to pick it up, since Gilbert is waiting for me in the back of the auditorium. Before I even reach it, a paperback book lands on top of it. I look up from where I'm kneeling on the ground and see Kirkland standing over me.

"What do you want, _Iggy_?" I put a somewhat cold emphasis on his nickname.

Iggy gestures to the book. I pick it off my navy blue backpack and examine it. It's _Macbeth_, with a modern English translation and notes.

"You can keep it," he says. As if I wanted to. "I recommend you read it, or at least look it over. So you can understand what exactly it is you're saying."

"Are you implying that I don't know what I'm saying?" I shove the book in my backpack and stand up. It's my turn to look down on Kirkland. Seriously, there's a prominent height difference.

"Yes," he answers bluntly.

I try to keep my face composed, but it has to display some aspect of defeat. Kirkland was right; I didn't completely understand the old English.

I turn to walk away, but stop when Kirkland calls my name.

"What?" I hiss. "I have to go."

"Maybe we could..," he hesitates, as if thinking what he's about to say over. I groan impatiently, causing Kirkland to snap out of whatever thought process that was going through his head.

"Maybe we could," he continues. "I mean, if you would find it to your benefit, we could meet up and practice outside of this rehearsal? It would help, with memorization and such. A-and a little extra practice never hurt anyone-"

I need to stop him before he goes off on a rant. "Yeah, maybe," I agree mindlessly, turning away for good. Of course, we were never going to actually do that, right?

"Oh, okay," Kirkland sounds much less hesitant now as he talked to back, which was quickly retreating from him. "Maybe Friday?"

I act like I don't hear him and walk out of the doors at the back of the auditorium, Gilbert trailing me.

_Huh, yeah, _I thought, snorting out loud. _  
_

_Can't do Friday, _I responded to Kirkland in my mind. _I'm scheduled to get the flu on Friday. And on the Friday after that. And the one after that. And the one after that..._

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_****_**Okkkie, that's done. Review and look for chapter 5? ^^ Thanks for reading. And thanks for the already received reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, so, ya'll gonna read this and be like, "WHAT IS GOING ON." (You'll know when you get there), but KEEP READING. It doesn't last long. Kinda. Ohhh, what I'm trying to say is what you want will still be there. Just not just yet. Don't be discouraged. **

**Chapter 5! This one's pretty long.**

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"So, thanks to all at once and to each one, whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone," Raivis, the shaky but surprisingly good actor playing Malcolm, finishes.

"Flourish. Exuent," Natalya adds with finality.

"And that," Edelstein says excitedly, "is the end of the play!"

This earns claps and various sounds from the cast, who, I'm assuming, are free to go, since we've finished the read-through-

"And since we still have an hour of practice left," Edelstein blocks me from completing the thought, "we will begin blocking scene one, act one!"

More cheering. I, on the other hand, groan. I want to go _home_.

As the witches make their way to the stage, Edelstein makes his way over to where I'm sitting, by Kirkland (sigh) and Natalya (not sigh, because she's pretty hot). "Mr. Kirkland, I'd like you to start memorization. Same with you, Alfred," he orders, then joins the witches on the stage.

I make no move to open my script and memorize lines, which unfortunately evokes Kirkland to ask, "Do you want to rehearse with me, Alfred?"

"I, uh, I..," _Damn_. I don't have a lie ready. "I.. actually, Natalya's a really big help to me. I'll learn faster if I practice with her."

With that, I stand up and start forcefully dragging Nat to the back of the auditorium, leaving Kirkland sitting behind in his cold, metal folding chair.

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"Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' like the poor cat i' the adage?"

Natalya acts as if she already knows this passage by heart; her script, although opened to act one scene seven, is at her feet.

"Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none."

We are right outside of the auditorium doors. Natalya didn't question too much into why exactly I pulled her out with me, much to my relief. And so, we're rehearsing full out. In fact, I almost have this scene memorized.

"What beast was't, then, that made you break this enterprise to me?" Natalya-sorry, Lady Macbeth-circles me. "When you durst do it, then you were a man; and, to be more than what you were, you would be so much more the man."

Nat totally fits this part. She's perfect for it, from her dominant composure to her provocative tone of voice and everything in between. Much more perfect than _Kirkland_.

"I have given suck, and know how tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, and dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you have done to this."

_Gosh_. Really, she's phenomenal. Amazing. The way she said that line... the mixture of emotions was just spot-on perfect and sexy.

Okay, so, yeah, I think Natty's attractive. But I don't like her. I just think she's hot. Really hot. I'm sure I'm not the only one... well, pretty sure, anyway.

I spin around to face my Lady Macbeth. "If we should fail?" I question, raising an eyebrow, as if unwilling and uncertain.

"We fail!" she shrugs, then takes a step towards me. "But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we'll not fail." She waves her finger at me like I'm a kid who got into the cookie jar before dinner.

"When Duncan is asleep-whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey soundly invite him-his two chamberlains will I with wine and wassail so convince that memory," my lady continues, moving away from me, relaying her plan with intensity. "the warder of the brain, shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason a limbeck only: when in swinish sleep their drenched natures lie as in a death, what cannot you and I perform upon the unguarded Duncan?"

She has turned back to me, a look of bloodlust gracing her face. It's really very attrac-

Okay. So maybe I kinda like her. A little. Or a lot. Or-y'know, the amount of liking isn't the important thing here.

She's in front of me again. My line. Uh, what was it...? Oh, yeah. "Bring forth men-children only; for they undaunted mettle should compose nothing but males. Will it not be received, when we have mark'd with bloody those sleepy two of his own chamber and used their very daggers, that they have done't?"

I've moved away from her, clearly distressed over the fact that my wife is persuading me to kill for the throne. Should I do it? Should I not?

The Lady has trailed behind me and grabbed my wrist. With a seductive yet stern voice, she tells me, "Who dares receives it other, as we shall make our griefs and clamour roar upon his death?"

I contemplate for a few moments, then sigh. I shall do what the wife says. "I am settled," I turn back to her, taking both of her hands in mine. "and bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with the fairest show: false face must hide what the false heart doth know."

And just like that, the scene is over. Instead of Macbeth and his Lady in the dim-lit Inverness, it's just Natalya and I in a school hallway. Although it's pretty dimly lit here, too.

"And this," Natalya smiles evilly, "is where you and your Lady Macbeth will proceed to make out on stage."

"_What?!_" I'm startled, but I don't jump back or anything. Nat's hands are still in mine, and they are going to stay that way as long as possible. "We are _not_!"

"Actually," she chuckles menacingly. "You are. According to Edelstein."

I glare at Natalya, although she and I both know my anger is not directed toward her. She gazes back at me sympathetically.

Okay, so, yeah, Nat's nice to me. That's probably because we've gone out a few times and split for mutual reasons. And, yeah, okay, I like her. And she likes me. Well, kinda (there's this senior named Ivan she likes, but I guess she's about given up on him by now, due to the fact that he's threatened to get a restraining order. True story.) Anywho, our liking to each other is universally known at our school.

So, as we are in this position, and since I never pass up a chance to flirt, and since I know all the ladies love me, I decide to go ahead and say what's on my mind:

"I'd much rather you be my Lady Macbeth than _Kirkland_."

And the signature Alfred charm (trademark) is up and running.

"I stage manage," she responds. Nat's a little harder to work with, as she's already used to my flattering.

"But you're an amazing actor," I smile and push my hair back.

"If you wanted to be in a play with me, you should have done _Romeo and Juliet _a few years back," she says, a look of disgust coming onto her face. "You would have probably been cast as Romeo, and I would've had to kiss you instead of Antonio."

My charm's totally working. I _feel_ it. "Why don't we focus on this play now?"

Nat nods. "Let's do that. Let's take it from the top of this scene. Watch that one line, try not to stumble over-"

I shake my head and tighten my grip on her hands as she attempts to pull away and retrieve her script. "Naw. I think we should practice the end."

"Which line?"

"No lines," I pull her back to me. I got this now. She's snagged in my line and I'm reeling her in. "Just the _end_."

"Oh," she looks up at me from under her eyelashes with a small, crooked grin. "The _end._"

"Yeah," I tilt my head down towards hers. "The _end._"

I hope I haven't forget how to kiss. Wait, can you even forget how to do that? I don't know. It's been, like, a whole two months since I've kissed someone. That dare at that one party doesn't count. We were half drunk and it was three in the morning. Gilbert and I have made a mutual decision to forget that incident. Between you and I, however, Gilb's not half bad.

And just like that, whaddaya know? We're making out in the hallway. I tell you, the charm always works. _Always_.

And as this is going on (I'll save you from the description of our corridor antics), I get this feeling that someone is watching me. So I just ignore it. And then I look up.

_"Kirkland_! What the hell?!"

Natalya flips around and looks from my face to Arthur's, back to mine, then to the floor. The glare from my eyes and the-I don't know, hate? Shock? _Jealousy_?-in his are making the room feel heavy. Nat casually slips back into the auditorium without saying a word, leaving me with the limey-man.

"Seriously, man? Did you _really _have to ruin that for me?" I question. God, if I disliked this kid before, I must hate his guts now.

"A-All I did was come outside..," he mutters in response.

"Well, why didn't ya go back in?! Was it _really _that necessary to _watch_?"

Arthur doesn't answer. He stares at his feet, then, after a few seconds, looks me in the eye. There's what seems to be determination on his face.

"I'm going to tell Mr. Edelstein that you weren't rehearsing."

"We _were _rehearsing!" I'm starting to talk with my hands. I do that when I get frustrated.

"You were engaged in coitis."

"In _what_? No!" I know my voice is getting loud; I have to compose myself before I continue explaining. "It's scene six, act one. We were rehearsing. Edelstein told Natalya that Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are supposed to kiss there."

I couldn't bring myself to say, "That's where we're supposed to kiss." It just didn't sound right. Arthur stares at me again, like he did when I kept laughing at his nickname the other day. Then he says, kinda quiet:

"Why didn't you rehearse it with me, then?"

".. what?"

"It's our scene together. If we're supposed to kiss there, why didn't you rehearse it with me? I'm the one you're supposed to kiss, not Natalya."

I snicker. "Yeah, I'm not kissing you."

He shoots me with his eyes. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not." We're starting to sound like little kids.

"You want to bet?" he raises a bushy eyebrow.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, limey."

"Okay," he shrugs, then casually walks into the auditorium. Before I can realize what he's doing and go after him, he comes back, Natalya in tow.

"Alfred," Nat stands at the door, refusing to come out into the hallway.

"What?"

"Edelstein told me to tell you to rehearse with Kirkland."

"I'm not kissing him."

"About that. Edelstein told me to tell you to _properly _rehearse with Kirkland. I.e., kiss him."

I groan. "No!"

Now Natalya shrugs and heads back into the auditorium. Arthur stands with his girly hands on his girly hips and stares at me with a smirk.

"What are you-?" Oh, wait. _Hell_.

Natalya comes back out into the hallway, this time with Mr. Edelstein.

"Alfred," Edelstein says. "I'd like to have a word with you, yes?" He motions for me to follow him further down the hallway. Sighing, I reluctantly do so.

"I need you to take this play seriously," Edelstein sternly tells me once we reach the water fountain.

"Mr. Edelstein, I am, but-"

"But," he interjects, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "you are not. You and Mr. Kirkland are going to meet up this Friday and rehearse outside of school, yes?"

"Well, I told him we would, but I don't think-"

"Mr. Jones," Edelstein is using a tone of voice I've never heard him use before. "You will meet up with him and practice. And you will practice _properly_."

"But-!"

"It's just acting, Mr. Jones. In fact, I want you to go act with him right now. I want to make sure you're comfortable with the kissing by opening night."

He starts walking back towards Nat and Kirkland. I follow after him, intending to continue to protest. But before I can say anything, Edelstein orders: "Kiss. Just once. You need to get used to it."

Hell, I have no choice. I don't want to give up this part... "Fine," I sigh despondently. I walk toward Arthur, who does not seem the least bit perturbed by this situation. In fact, I think he's reeking of excitement.

I hesitate, looking to Nat for help, but all she does is grin like she's ready to burst out laughing.

"Well, get on with it," Edelstein says. "It's just acting."

I take a deep breath. _It's just acting. _C'mon, Alfred. You can totally do this.

And then I do. Arthur has to stand on his tip-toes, and I have to bend my neck at a severe angle, but I do it.

I don't know how much time passes or what I'm really doing, but Edelstein says, "That's fine. See, it's just acting, and you two are excellent actors." He heads back inside, and so does Nat, who's not snickering as I would have thought she would. Her face actually displays... concern. That's really not that common for Natalya. In fact, I doubt I've ever seen such a sight before.

My face is all red. Ugh. I put my hands on my cheeks to cool them down. Why would my face be all r-

Oh, my.

Kirkland's still in front of me. "It's just acting, Alfred," he smirks evilly, heading back into the auditorium. I'm left to stand there and contemplate what just happened. And, I repeat:

Oh. My.

* * *

Gilbert's walking beside me out to my truck, talking about his new "friend," Fleance, and how he's going to influence him. I sigh. This is going to be a long ride home.

Once we get out on the road, Gilbert asks, "So, I heard you kissed Iggy."

I groan, my face turning red again. "Does _everyone_ know that?"

"Pretty much, ja."

I groan louder and hit my head off the window, not caring that my eyes aren't on the road ahead of me. I can feel my face getting hotter and hotter.

"Geez, Alfred," Gilbert chuckles. "You don't have to be so embarrassed about it. It's just acting."

_There's that damn phrase of the day again. _"It... it's not that."

"Then what is it? Was it because Natalya was watching?"

"Gilbert, it's..," I say, my tone of voice making it clear that this was serious.

"What?"

"I liked it."

* * *

**AHAHHHHHHHH I told you to read to the end. HAH.**

**Sorry for the long space between updates. I swear on my LIFE (& sheep, so ya'll know this is serious, cause I love sheep) that I will be on more. If I'm not, you can cut my hands off. Heheh.**

**Well, thanks for reading, and look for chapter 6!**

**Also review. :3 Danke!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Grrr. It took forever for me to update. My apologies; I've been very busy, especially with musical rehearsals. Gaaah. But, without further ado, I present the next chapter. Enjoy~**

**I don't own Hetalia nor Shakespeare. Sigh.**

* * *

It's Friday afternoon, and I'm waiting outside of school for-well, I'm sure you can guess who.

So, a lot of things have happened in the past few days. Let me explain. The first surprising experience was on the way home with Gilbert, right after I told him about, you know... liking it. It went like this:

_"Like... you like men?_"

_"Gilb, c'mon. Be serious here," I grind my teeth in frustration. "No, I don't like men... I mean, no, I like girls, but..," I sigh. "Now that I'm forced to think about it, I like guys, too, I guess."_

_Silence ensues. I grow worried; Gilbert's my beat friend. I can't lose him. I hope this whole thing doesn't matter..._

_Just when I thought the quiet was getting too hard to bare, Gilbert spoke:_

_"Phew. Thought I was the only one."_

_Now it was my turn to be silent. "... what?"_

_Gilbert shrugs. "I'm just glad to know that I'm not the only bisexual person here."_

_"Wait, so..," I shake my head in shock. I was _not _expecting this from Gilby. "I had no idea."_

_"Well," Gilby laughs his weird laugh. "Now you know. By the way, you and Arthur are totally cute together. I'd ship that."_

So, that was something I never knew about Gilbert. Between you and me, though, he apparently has this huge crush on Mr. Edelstein. Hah! Who would've thought?

The second odd thing to happen to me just occurred through my thoughts. I kept thinking into this whole bisexual thing. While I'm not comfortable with me being it yet (I doubt I'll ever be), I realized that it's been here all along. I've just been ignoring it. Just like how my liking to girls arose during puberty, so did my liking to boys. When I was thirteen and watched _That 70s Show, _Jackie wasn't the only character I thought was hot. I just thought Ashton Kutcher was hot subconsciously.

The third thing happened to me earlier today. I was sitting in the library during study hall, entertaining myself by twirling a pencil between my fingers. I knew that Kirkland and I were to get together to practice after school today, but we never made any plans. That is, until he walked into the library.

I prayed internally that he wouldn't see me, that he'd just disappear behind a shelf of books and become too engrossed in them to notice me. I guess I was lacking luck, because he spotted me not two seconds after he had entered the library. That went like this:

_I groan_ _inwardly as Kirkland's eyes land on me and he males his way over to the table I'm sitting at._

_"Good morning," he says. "Are we still rehearsing tonight?"_

_"I don't know," I snap, avoiding eye contact with him, focusing on the yellow pencil in my hand._

_"How about after school? At my house?" he continues, ignoring my disinterest._

_I sigh, flipping the pencil out of my fingers and on to the floor. I make no move to retrieve it. "Fine, whatever."_

_"Fine," Kirkland nods, bending down to pick up my pencil. He holds it out to me. "Can you forge a note for a bus pass?"_

_I finally look up to him, raising my eyebrows. "A bus pass?" I ask incredulously. "You still ride the bus?"_

_I watch as Kirkland's face goes red in embarrassment. "I... driving is dangerous... and I've failed the test three times."_

_The bell rings. I stand up and look down at Kirkland. "I'll just wait for you outside. You give me directions and I'll drive."_

_"Okay," Kirkland smiles, face still red. "Sounds great. I'm-"_

I didn't catch the end of what Iggy said. I rushed out of the library to my next class, trying to get away from him as fast as possible, partly because I was annoyed and partly because a corner of my mind was noting how cute he looked when he blushed.

Gah. I still shudder thinking about how I actually thought that.

A voice interrupts my shuddering. "Hello, Alfred."

I snap back to reality. "Hi," I mutter, nodding slightly in his direction. Without warning, I start off towards the student parking lot and my car with unnecessarily long strides. I can tell that Kirkland is struggling to keep up with me. Heh. Shorty.

I get to my car, throw my books in the back seat, and slam the front door as I hastily get in. By the time Kirkland's in, I've already started the engine.

"Where am I going?" I ask impatiently.

"My, would you calm down?" Kirkland complains as he buckles up. He _actually buckles_ _up_. What is he, an eighty year old?

"Just tell me where I'm going," I growl.

"Fine, fine," he sighs. He gives me directions and yells as I speed down the road.

* * *

"Where do you want to start reading from?" Kirkland asks. We're sitting in his house's unnervingly clean living room. Seriously, it's so clean that I've afraid to walk in the wrong place. I sit slouched in a tan, leather armchair while he sits with perfect posture on a matching love seat.

"Don't care," I respond absentmindedly, fiddling with my script.

"How about act one, scene seven?" He questions, flipping to the spot in his script.

"Sure," I yawn, also flipping to the spot. I see that I'm first up. I inhale. "If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere-do I really have to read through this whole thing?"

"I suppose not," he sighs, a hint of frustration in his voice. He skips down to his line. "He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber?"

"Hath he ask'd for me?" I question rather unentusiastically.

"Know you not he has?" Kirkland responds, actually acting. Why, I don't know. We're only reading through our lines. It's not an actual rehearsal.

"We will proceed no further in this business: he hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people," I drone on monotonously. I sigh, bored. "Which would be worn now in their newest-"

"Would you please be so kind to take this seriously?" Kirkland snaps at me. His tone causes me to look up. He has his eyes closed shut and is pinching the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply.

"Fine, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist," I mumble, feeling his glare on me. I put more effort into my line reading. "Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, not cast aside so soon."

I listen halheartedly to Kirkland read the next line, tuning back in for the end: "... upon 'I would,' like the poor cat i' the adage?"

It is then that I realize what scene this is. "Whoa, wait. Can't we save this one for rehearsal with Edelstein? I'm not kissing you more than I have to."

Kirkland just stares at me. I really wish that he'd stop that. "First of all, we were just reading the lines," he points out matter-of-factly. "Secondly, why not? You seemed to enjoy the kissing." He has his evil smirk on his face.

"I did not," I protest, knowing that my face says otherwise.

"Really?" He leans forward, keeping his gaze on me. "For someone who didn't like it, you sure were quite into it. I haven't been french kissed like that since the last time I visited London-"

"Would you shut up?!" I yell, glaring at his stupid smirking face.

"Why? It makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?"

"What do you think?!" I yell again. The next thing I know, I'm not controlling the words coming out of my mouth. "I was perfectly fine being me and being with girls and then you come along and make me realize what I've been ignoring for my whole damn teenage life and I'm not used to it and I'm not going to be used to it because I don't want to be bisexual and I don't know why I am and I don't like it!"

I don't know why, but Kirkland looks as if he'd expected this particular outburst. He looks me in the eye and calmly asks, "How could you have been you if there was a part of yourself you never knew was there?"

"I..," I can't come up with an answer that doesn't sound like bullshit.

"I don't think that sexuality is a characteristic that individuals should be judged on," Kirkland continues. "But I do believe it is a defining characteristic that should be embraced, and certainly not ignored."

I remain silent, half because I can't muster up a response and half because I actually want to hear what he needs to say.

"See, I found out about myself when I was visiting relatives over in England when I was thirteen," he explains. "When a cousin of mine had a friend over. I still remember him, the day, and how I felt. I believe that my finding out about my sexuality was a very important life event and I cherish it, although I'm constantly under fire for being gay."

I take in what he says. And then I realize something: "Why in hell am I talking to you about this?!"

I'm on my feet, ready to leave. I don't care what Kirkland thinks about sexualities or whatever other crap goes on in his head.

Kirkland has stood up, too. "Alfred, I didn't mean to upset you," he assures sincerely. "I just want to help you..."

"Help me with what?!" I start to talk with my hands-a sign of rising anxiety. "With turning into a homo?!"

"What? Alfred, no! I just..," he sighs. "I just want to help you feel more at ease with yourself. I know I would have liked someone to be there when I went through what I did."

I'm silent. I guess I've never really thought about what Kirkland went through... I've never had a reason to. But, I have to admit, it would be nice to have someone to go through it with. Someone who's more serious than Gilbert...

I sigh, sending a wary sideways glance towards Kirkland. "I'm... sorry. I guess I overreacted..."

"It's fine. I'm just very forward, I suppose," he shrugs, green eyes now focused on the pristine white carpet.

A few moments of silence pass. I bend down and pick up my script off the coffee table.

"I think I'm done for today," I now stare at the floor.

"Oh, of course," Kirkland nods, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. "Of course, of course."

I flick my wrist in a slight waving motion and turn towards the wooden front door.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah?" I freeze, my hand on the doorknob.

"Do you... like me?"

I stare down at my hand. To my dismay, I feel my face turn red. "I don't know," I mumble very quietly.

"Okay," Arthur answers as I step out the door. "That's okay."

* * *

**That got rather dramatic at the end, heheheh. Anyway, yep. I'll try to update faster, but I can't make promises. Oh, how I wish I could, though.**

**Anywho, thanks for your reviews and PLEASE keep reviewing! I love reading them and the support really makes me happy! X3 So, yes, review and look for the next chapter! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the long update time! My school musical's last showing was tonight (cry!) and so, now that that's over, I actually have time again (yippee)! But, I will say this now: Look for a Hetalia _Godspell _fic soon... heheheh. xD**

**I don't own Hetalia or Shakespeare. Hur duurrr durrrr. **

**Welcome to chapter 7! ^-^**

* * *

I do like Kirkland**.**

Just going to put that out there.

See, I knew that I did when he asked me that question last Friday. That's why my face got red. I knew that I liked him when I had to kiss him at rehearsal. That's why I was so into it. I know I like him now, because I keep thinking back to our conversation and getting jealous over his cousin's friend that helped him discover his British-y gayness.

I like Arthur Whatever-His-Middle-Name-Is Kirkland.

That's going to take some time to get used to. But I might as well come to terms with it-the sooner the better, I guess. I'm gonna have to kiss him a lot more, anyway. Plus, I'm pretty positive he likes me back, because, really, who wouldn't like Alfred Frederic Jones? Honestly? That's what I thought; everybody loves me.

I want to tell him, but I don't. I'm scared to. So, I've decided to just show signs of it; I'll start calling him Arthur instead of Kikland or Iggy, I'll start being nicer (somewhat), and I'll possibly start complementing him. I mean, this is how you gets girls, right? Are guys really that different?

"Alfred, Arthur," Edelstein's voice snaps me back to reality. "Would you two be so kind to rehearse in the hallway again? I'm not quite done blocking the witches yet."

Arthur answers with a small "sure" and I nod my head. I know I look normal and bored on the outside, but on the inside, I swear to you, I'm like this: YEAH I GET TO REHEARSE WITH HIM IN THE HALLWAY WHOOO MAYBE WE'LL MAKE OUT OR SOMETHING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!

True story. Except maybe I don't sound _that _much like a teenage Justin Bieber fangirl.

Before Arthur and I even get a chance to move, Natalya is over by us. She ignores him and goes right to me.

"Do you want to rehearse with me again, Alfred?" she asks. She has that look in her eye; I know this look well. It's her lusty-I-really-like-you-again-can-we-make-out-you' re-a-sex-god-look. Or some variant thereof. Although I have to admit her offer is tempting, I have more pressing sex god things to attend to.

"No, sorry," I respond. A slight glare appears in her eyes. "I think I'm gonna rehearse with Arthur today."

I see both Nat's and Arthur's eyes widen a bit. "Oh, that's okay," Natalya nods halfheartedly. Her already mean voice is tinged with annoyance. "I'll just help out in here." Having said that, she flicks her long, platinum blonde hair over her shoulder and walks away with a barely audible "hmph".

There's a few seconds of silence. Then Arthur looks up at me. "Shall we get to it, then?" he asks me.

"We shall," I nod, grabbing my script and heading towards the hallway.

* * *

"What scenes should we rehearse?" he asks once we get into the hallway.

"Well," I sigh. "I believe we were working on act one, scene seven last Friday before I left, correct?"

"Correct," Arthur nods.

"Then, I think that's the scene we'll work on," I throw my script down on the semi-dusty tile floor. "I think I have it memorized."

Arthur makes some kind of snorting sound. "I about have the whole play memorized," he points out, all smug-like.

I roll my eyes and push some locks of dirty blonde hair out of my face. "Good for you, Mr. Shakespeare. Can we please start rehearsing now? Before Natalya or Edelstein sees that we're not doing anything?"

"Well, you're enthusiastic today," Arthur mumbles, laying his script down on top of mine. "If you're so eager to start, then start," he stares at me. "The scene begins with you, does it not?"

"What? Oh, yeah, it does," I chuckle. Now you watch, I'm gonna play it up here. Just like I did with Natalya. I _will _get another make out session in this hallway before today's rehearsal ends. "But I thought we could start, like, somewhere in the middle, since we left off towards the end. And, you know, we can, like, actually act it out, since we're rehearsing and stuff."

"Uhh, okay," Arthur mumbles again. He mumbles a lot. "What line do you-"

"Eh-hm! I will start, if you don't mind," I ready myself, and then begin. "If we should fail?"

Arthur does that staring thing again. "What's wrong with you?" he asks quietly after a few moments.

Oh, no. He's on to me. "Nothing," I shrug. I make sure to make eye contact, so he doesn't think I'm lying.

Another few seconds pass. Then, he says even quieter: "There's something wrong here."

"No, there's not. What are you talking about?"

"You just want to rehearse the ending."

"What? Oh, yeah. The ending. I want to rehearse that."

"And you want to act it out."

"Well, duh. It's a rehearsal, isn't it?"

Arthur's face goes cold. That can't be good. "I'm not Natalya, Alfred."

I tilt my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not Natalya," he shakes his head. "I don't want to have face sex with you in the hallway of some ratty old hick school."

My heart sinks a tiny bit. "That's not what I was trying to do..," I murmur.

"Yes, it is," Arthur practically growls. "That's what you did with her. The ending. All you wanted to practice is the ending."

"No..," I shake my head with little defense.

"Look, Alfred," Arthur takes a step towards me, staring up at me defiantly. "I'm not stupid. I've been romantically involved with more people than you think. I can tell that you like me. I can tell that you obviously know I have a little thing for you. What you don't know is that this little "thing" I have has been going on for almost two years, since I saw you at a football game with that Gilbert idiot. Ergo, I'm not about to make out with you in the hallway. After two years, I finally have a chance to have a relationship with you, and I want it to be an actual relationship. If I'm going to make out with you, it sure as hell better not be in a place as unromantic as this hallway. And it sure as hell better not be the same situation in which you made out with your five time ex-girlfriend."

Well, then. Arthur inhales. I can understand why he's out of breath; he got all those words out in under twenty seconds. I just stare, dumbfounded.

First of all, I'm astonished at this two year thing. That's just... astounding. Secondly, he must stalk me. How else does he know Natalya and I have dated and broken up five times? Oh, wait; everyone knows about my social life. Thirdly, a relationship? I don't want a relationship, especially not with a man. I am beyond not ready for that.

Unfortunately, that's the first thing to come out of my mouth. "I don't want a relationship."

Uh oh.

Arthur's face goes red and he takes a step away from me. "You... don't?"

"I mean, I... I just don't..," I stammer.

"Like me that much," Arthur finishes my sentence.

"I didn't say that!" Really, it's not that I don't like him that much! It's just that I'm not ready! I can't!

"You didn't have to," he looks at his feet.

"It's not that! I'm just... I... not ready," I trail off, trying to tell him what I mean.

"No, it's okay," he shakes his head. "I-I just made a stupid assumption. I'm sorry."

I frown. That was not a stupid assumption! "Arthur, I-"

"No," he shakes his head again. "I'm not feeling too well," he mumbles, still not looking up at me. "I think I'm going to go home. And with that, he dashes into the auditorium to collect his things and go, leaving me standing there alone in the damp hallway, feeling horrible.

Well, I get why they call theatre "drama" now. Sheesh.

* * *

**Whee, done! I whipped this chapter out in less than an hour. I'm proud:)**

**Hope you enjoyed it! Maybe I'll update faster now, since I don't have any practices. I'm not out of school for the summer yet, though, so I dunno. :/ I'll try, though.**

**Please, please, PLEASE review! I LOVE reading them, I do! I love you all, anyway, even if you don't review, heheh. Although, if you DO review, I have some cookies baking in the oven especially for you! ;)**

**So, yeah, review and look for chapter 8! ^w^**


	8. Chapter 8

**UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE!**

**School's out, wheee. Maybe more updates? Maybe. Hopefully. It's what I plan on doing, at least.**

**Thanks for all your reviews so far! I love you guys:)**

**So, this one's pretty short. But I think it's enjoyable.**

**And now, without further ado, chapter 8!**

**(I don't own Hetalia nor Shakespeare. Sigh).**

* * *

It's now Monday, and Arthur is not in school.

Really. What kind of boy-crazed seventh grader is he? All I did was tell him I didn't want a relationship. Gosh, there was no need to be so dramatic about. And not coming to school because of it is just girly.

So I've decided to do what any other person would: go to his house and make him man up. I'm just gonna go right in there and make sure he knows that he's totally acting like a chick and needs to put away the ice cream and romantic comedies and get the hell back to school and play rehearsals.

I feel as if this is a bad idea, because I'm in a horribly bad mood. Because, yes, I'm a spoiled brat and I don't like it when I don't get what I want. And what I wanted was a meaningless make-out session in the hallway. And what do I get? A lovesick Brit. Totally not what I was going for.

Thinking about such things makes me even more angry as I walk-no, more like stomp-up to Arthur's front door. No one's car is out front, so I assume no one but him is home. So I bang loudly on the door, hoping this will make him answer, because banging is a lot more urgent and angry than a doorbell.

About twenty seconds pass. I bang on the door again.

Another ten seconds pass. I kick the door.

Another five seconds pass. Just as I'm about to yell for him, Arthur opens the door.

And, oh, my God, does he look like a mess.

I waste no time in chewing him out. "Look, you little twit," I growl. "You better get your act together and get back to school so we can block scenes at rehearsals. I'm sorry I crushed your dreams and no, I still don't want a relationship, because I'm not really exactly ready for that yet. So you need to stop acting like a chick and get your ass up off the couch and-"

All this time, he's been repeating these little, weak, muffled Alfreds. They gradually increased in volume, and, when it got to the point that his voice horrifically cracked, I finally stopped ignoring him and shut up.

"I haven't been in school," he croaks nasally, "because I have the flu. Dipshit."

It's then that I notice it. His red, puffy face, watery eyes, unkempt hair, wrinkled pajamas, and the mound of tissues in the pocket of his blue robe. Well, damn.

"Oh," I nod. "I see."

"I suppose so," he spits. It's hard to tell with his stuffed up voice, but he's getting pretty angry. "And I'll have you know, Mr. Jones, that I would _never _miss school because of such a situation. Especially such a situation involving the likes of _you_, you sod. I have much more dignity than that and I'm quite appalled that you would think that I would do such a stupid thing."

Aw, crap. He's in rant mode. Someone help me escape.

"To think," he continues, picking up the pace of his words, "that would would think such of me makes me have my doubts about you. But, unfortunately, those doubts mean nothing at this point because I'm in too far in this thing and there's no escaping the fact that I love you. But don't let that get you all excited, because I hate you, too. You don't pay attention and you only think of yourself and you make me think of you at the most inconvenient times and you're obnoxious and you're a man whore and, God, I hate you so fucking much, Mr. Jones. But I also love you the same amount and it makes me mad. and-"

At this point, he breaks off, only because he's gone into a coughing fit. I bend over, pick up a tissue that fell out of his pocket, and hand it to him. He coughs out a weak but still cold "thank you".

After he wheezes die down, we sink into an awkward silence, which I break after a few seconds:

"When you're upset, you say more than you want to, I think."

"No," he shakes his head. "I say what I've been meaning to say all along. I say what I normally never have the nerve to."

A few more moments pass. Then, I say, smirking, "You love me."

"I hate you," he glares.

"If you love me, why wouldn't you kiss me in the hallway?"

"I hate you, Alfred Frederic Jones."

"If you love someone, you should be happy to kiss them."

"I hope you die."

And then, you know what I did?

I very swiftly closed the space between us and kissed him, before he could do anything about it.

And you know what else?

He kissed me back right away, like he was expecting it. Hah.

But it only lasted like five seconds, because he pulled away.

"I'll get you sick," he murmurs, avoiding eye contact and blushing, adding another shade of red to his already rosy-fevered face.

"Not unless you stick your tongue in my mouth," I murmur back, smiling crookedly, my eyes still partly closed.

"What makes you think I wouldn't?" I think I detected a bit of a chuckle from him.

"Why don't you, then?"

"Because," he shakes his head. "There's a play in a month and a half and I don't want our Macbeth sick. It's bad enough our Lady Mac-," Arthur stops in mid-sentence, his hand flying up to his mouth and his face going pale.

"What's wro-"

Before I can finish asking, Arthur pukes all over my red Converse.

* * *

**So there ya have it.**

**You like it? Please, PLEASE leave me a review about it, then. I've said it before, I'll say it again: I really, really, _really _love them. ^^**

**So, thanks for reading and check back for chapter 9 (hopefully) soon!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Fast update! I deserve like the deed to Iceland or something.**

**Anywho, I don't even know what went on with this chapter. It's... interesting, I suppose.**

**I will warn that there's a bit of smutty stuff, but it's _NOT _actually smut. I mean, the worst word said is "vagina." **

**Which will _certainly _make you read this chapter because now you're wondering what a vagina has to do with a yaoi fanfic. **

**Well, here's this... "masterpiece."**

**(I no own Hetalia/Shakespeare).**

* * *

"Oh, God, ew!" I groan. I avert my eyes to avoid sight of my new, favorite, expensive, and now ruined sneakers.

"Oh, dear. Alfred, I'm so sorry! I truly am," Arthur apologizes. "I'll buy you a new pair, I promise."

"No, i-it's okay," I insist, taking off my glasses and covering my eyes with a tanned hand. "It wasn't your fault."

"But it was," he murmurs. "It was." A quick glance through my fingers shows me that he's staring straight down at my shoes in obvious distress. He must have a strong stomach, because, if I did that, I'd add to the vomit.

"They're just shoes," I shake my head. My favorite shoes, but yeah. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, dear, dear, dear," he mumbles, sounding like the White Rabbit from _Alice in Wonderland._ "Peter! Come here and get rid of Alfred's shoes, please."

Peter. God dammit, Peter. I forgot he existed.

The blonde twelve-year-old with an even heavier British accent than his brother runs into the room. He has a little sailor's hat on, like he was playing dress up or something. "What, Iggy?" he whines. "I was busy, you know-oh, brother. What on Earth did you do to him?!"

"Nothing. Now can you please-?"

Peter gasps dramatically. "Were you hungover again?" he asks. "Arthur Kirkland, you are supposed to be sick! I'm going to tell mother that you were drinking again!"

"I was _not _hungover!" Arthur snaps.

"You drink?" I raise my eyebrows questioningly, not believing it.

Arthur rolls his grass green eyes. "I'm British. Of course I do." He turns his attention back to his younger sibling. "Can you just take care of his shoes, please? Alfred, kick them off. He'll get rid of them for you."

I do as I was told. Peter whisks my soiled sneakers away without so much of a protest as a cold "you owe me" quietly shot in Arthur's direction.

After Peter is gone, I look at Arthur, my eyebrows still raised. "How often do you get hungover, exactly?"

"Oh, it's only happened about three or four times," he shrugs, sniffles, then mutters, "this month."

"This month?" My eyes widen in shock. "But it's only the-" I count my fingers. "-sixteenth."

"Well, there you have it," he jerks his small shoulders slightly, a somewhat irritated tint to his voice. Maybe this is a touchy subject for him? "I'm a bit of an alcoholic. Sue me."

I decided not to prod any further into his drinking tendencies. A few awkward moments pass. Then, after, he coughs, he asks:

"Would you like to come in and rehearse a bit while you're here, maybe?"

"Why not?" I say. I go and make myself at home on the same chair as last time.

Arthur goes to the couch, which, I can tell now, has been his home for the past few days-there's blankets, pillows, books, his script, a laptop charging, more tissues, and a mug half full of cold tea. Since I'm paying attention, I also notice an empty bottle hidden under a plaid fleece blanket on the floor.

"So," he sighs heavily, untying his robe and shrugging it off.

Oh, my. He has no shirt on.

_Oh, my._

He notices me staring and goes red again, starting in his face and gradually brushing down to the base of his neck. "Sorry," he lowers his eyes to his folded hands in his lap. "I think my temperature must be flaring up again. "I'm awfully hot. Do you mind?"

"Nope, not at all. You gotta do what you gotta do," I answer a bit too quickly. Now my face is going red. I hope he doesn't notice...

"Yes, thank you," he nods, brushing blonde, messy hair out of his eyes. "Anyway, anything specific we should work on?"

I think, then almost laugh. "Believe it or not, act one, scene seven. Edelstein wants to block it when you get back."

"I think we're good with that one, yes?" Arthur responds very fast.

"No, not really," I shake my head, leaning forward and closer to him. "We've never really ran completely through it, Arthur."

"Why are you calling me that all of a sudden?" He snaps, almost angrily.

"It's your name..?" I respond, confused.

"Well," he says, flipping through his script and leaning back into the couch. "I quite liked it when you called me Iggy, but whatever.

"Oh, I'll call you Iggy, then," I smile eagerly. "I thought it annoyed you."

"Quite the opposite," Iggy mutters, seemingly embarrassed. "Let's just rehearse this scene and get it over with, okay?" He starts to fan himself with his script; you can see how bad his fever is getting. He should really be taking a cold bath or sleeping or something, not reading through scenes. So, instead of looking at the hair pasted down to his forehead with sweat and feeling bad for being here, I adjust my focus to that white marble chest of his. It's a very, _very _wonderful distraction.

"Yeah, okay," I nod, zoned out.

I think he was waiting for me to start the scene, but I was too out of it to remember that I did that, so he went ahead with his lines.

"Alfred?" he pokes my arm. I blink in response, unhappy about being brought back down to earth. I look at him and tilt my head to the side.

"It's your line," he says.

"Oh," I have to think for a second. "I'm sorry, I don't even know what scene we're on right now." I run my hand through my hair, as if it'll help me remember.

Iggy rolls his eyes. "Act one, scene sev-"

"Yeah, about that," I interrupt, leaning closer to him. "Now that we've established that you love me and all that shit, would you be willing to just practice the ending? I mean, we're even in the comfort of your own home."

He shifts, looking uncomfortable to be put on the spot. "You'll get sick," he shakes his head.

"Yeah, but you're on antibiotics or something, so it shouldn't matter, right?" I insist, moving even closer to him.

"My medicine will not prevent you from getting sick," Iggy mumbles in protest, avoiding my eyes and crossing his thin, white arms. He keeps saying no, but I can see what he really wants in his face.

I'm now only inches away from him. My eyes go all heavy-lidded, in that seductive kind of way. I brush a few fingers across his reddened cheek. "But you already have your shirt off."

Iggy rolls his eyes and shoots a sideways glance at me. "Oh, stop it, Alfred," he tries to scold me. But it comes out all weak and quiet and slow, so it sounds more like, "Why the hell do you keep talking? Come and get it already."

So I take his face in my hands, all slow and romantic-like, and push my lips lightly against his.

I feel the pressure of his soft lifts against mine and I feel his hands snaking their way around my neck. It feels different, but I can't tell whether it's because he's a boy or because I've never liked anyone like this before. Kissing him feels gentle and sweet and meaningful, in a way that I've never felt with Natalya or anyone else. It always used to be sloppy and lustful, and this is far from that.

And I love how it feels, his lips moving in time with mine. He twists his fingers in my hair and, although it's happened to me before, it's like a whole different experience.

I don't know how much time passes, but he breaks for air, leaning his forehead against mine. His eyes still closed, he smiles and sighs, running his fingers through my tousled, dirty blonde hair.

"I've waited two years for something like that to happen, Alfred," he says happily, opening his eyes a bit.

I push some of his damp hair away from his eyes. "Sorry I made you wait so long," I smile my crooked smile, the right corner of my mouth subconsciously pulling up higher than the left.

Something changes in Arthur's eyes. Their softness shifts into something fierce and he narrows them at me.

"When you do that," he says with a seductive tone to his voice, pushing me back in the chair with one long, slender finger against the center of my chest, "you have no idea what you're doing to me."

"When I do what?" I swallow. I've never seen Arthur act like this. I can't decide if I should be really scared or really turned on. My crooked smile is still on my face, but it's a nervous grin now.

"When you do _that_," he traces the crookedness of my lips with his fingers. He's stood up and is now in front of me, moving ever so slowly closer to me, pushing me way back into the chair. "It's extremely attractive, don't you know?" There's a slight growl in his otherwise high, tenor voice.

"I-is it?" I squeak, shrinking away from him. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Is it me or are they getting foggy?

"Very," he nods. Then, he gets onto my lap, wrapping his legs around to the back of the chair, effectively trapping me there.

I gulp. "Well, that's a.. a nice thing to k-keep in mind. Thanks for telling me," I ramble nervously.

"Oh, calm down," he laughs, caressing my face. "I'm positive that this isn't the first time you've been in a situation like this."

"Well, no," I admit. "B-but that was with Nat or Emily or whoever else. That wasn't with you."

"Anyhow," he rolls his eyes and gets back into seductive mode, "you want to practice the ending? Let me show you how it's done."

I've gained some confidence. "I'm listening," I nod.

"Don't listen," he smirks. "Just do." Arthur makes a noise in the back of his throat and closes his eyes. When he opens them back up, he seems to have changed. He's transformed into his character.

"Who dares receive it other," he says, drawing the words out, angry and sexy sounding. He runs his fingers along my pink cheek. "as we shall make our griefs and clamour roar upon his death?"

I watch him (her), contemplating my words. I sigh. "I am settled, and bend corporal agent to this terrible feat." I declare determinedly, flinching a bit as Arthur's fingers run over a scar on my neck from when I was a kid and was playing Cowboys and Indians with my younger brother. "Away, mock the time with the fairest show: false heart must hide what the false heart doth know."

And, at that, he takes over. He kisses me this time, a lot more urgently and passionately before, but not sloppily-he does it in a skilled way.

I wrap my arms around his little waist, and he runs his hands down my chest. He lifts up my shirt and swiftly pulls it off, tossing it away. He takes my face in his hands and pulls me closer. I willingly abide.

And on the inside, I'm freaking the hell out.

But, you know, I remain calm and collected on the outside. Sort of.

Arthur bites at my bottom lip and I open my mouth for him, probably a little too eagerly. His hands have been roaming around for a bit, but they'd made there way down there and he's fiddling with my belt.

Wait, does this mean were gonna have sex?

...

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO HAVE SEX WITH A MAN!

More importantly...

I DON'T WANT THAT FACT TO GET IN THE WAY OF ME BEING ON TOP.

There is _no fucking way _that I will _ever _let anyone top me. I will especially never let Arthur do so.

But how can I be on top if I don't know what to do?! Unless he has a vagina for some reason, I'm lost.

But he's already managed to unzip my jeans and he's playing with the elastic of my boxers and I've never been hard for a guy and it's literally hurting because he's teasing me and God, someone help me. I'm no virgin, but I'm really scared right now.

But being scared doesn't change the fact that I want him. So, annoyed with his teasing, I buck my hips a little. Iggy gets the message and slips his hand into my boxers.

"... brother?!"

Arthur and I freeze and slowly turn towards the doorway, greeted with the sight of a pale and horrified Peter.

No no no no no no no no no _no_!

"Peter," Arthur growls. His eyes twitches and his face is all red. "Get out."

"What are you doing to him _now_?!" Peter yells.

"I said _get out_," Arthur looks like he's going to kill him.

"I'm telling mom!" Peter yells even louder.

Arthur pales. "You little twat!" he jumps off of me and charges towards his brother. Peter tries to run, but Iggy is faster. He Grabs Peter's arm and twists it around, so it's at a painful looking angle against his back. "I'll murder the bloody hell out of you!"

"Ow! Let go of me, you jerk!" Peter squirms.

"Like hell I will!" Arthur screams at him. "That was a special moment and you ruined it!"

"WHY IS THERE SOMETHING HARD IN YOUR PANTS?!"

"OH, MY GOD, SHUT YOUR SODDING MOUTH!"

Aw, hell. I still have something hard in my pants, too.

While they struggle with each other, I buckle my belt and stand up. I walk towards the door.

"As amusing as this is," I say, rubbing my glasses against my shirt to get the smudges off, "I think it's time for me to go."

Peter doesn't seem to take notice, but Arthur groans, disappointed. "I'm not done with you yet," he narrows his eyes at me.

"I should hope not," I smile crookedly. He groans again.

"ARTHUR IGNACIOUS KIRKLAND, WHY DID IT GET HARDER?!"

I slip out the door and walk towards my car, as if nothing happened. Which is sort of hard to do, because I'm experiencing quite a bit of pain in my lower half.

I think it's safe to say that this was not what I expected today.

* * *

**You were warned.**

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